Page 114 of Vicious Butterfly
“I’m so tired. I might fall asleep, but you can keep fucking me. Don’t stop. Don’t wanna stop feeling you …”
I chuckle on the inside, but school my features on the outside. We’ve destroyed the entire downstairs portion of the brewery. We’re covered in each other—blood, bruises, cum, bite marks.
“I think it’s time to go home. C’mon, up.” But I have to help him off the floor. I’ve ruined him. Okay, yeah, he’s incapable ofwalking. His head rolls onto my shoulder, and I lift him bridal style under his legs.
He’s my bride after all.
I’ll need to cover him, but then I’m packing him into my car and taking him to my condo.
18
RYAN
December
Irub the place where a ring should be. I can’t stop. My brain tells me it should be there, and when I don’t feel it, I get fucking cagey. Like two weeks ago didn’t happen. Like I’m not Mr. Tate VanCourt.
And, yeah, I know, I know, but let’s be for real. I’m Mr. Tate VanCourt; he’s not Mr. Ryan Savage.
Can you imagine that? Tate Savage. Tate VanSavage. Nope. Doesn’t work.
It might help if the man himself would show his face. Where are all the audits he was supposed to do so he could be with me? Watch over me? Or if he’s abandoned that farce, where’s his Mission: Impossible-level rescue of the Savage brothers? And, no, I’m not a damsel—or whatever the male equivalent of that would be—in distress. I’ve done my part, paid the price. It’s his turn to do as promised.
I’ve ignored every call from my father until they finally stopped, him wanting all kinds of shit, including more tattoo removal appointments that I’m never going to. But that onlymeans he’ll show up or do what he usually does, and act through the officers here. My nerves burn with anxiety on a continuous loop, waiting for him to make his move. I don’t know what it is, just that it’s coming. Waiting till Tate becomes commissioner might not be an option anymore. Does he have a fucking pivot for that?
“Get into position, cadets!” Major Carter shouts the order, and we all lower to one knee.
Everyone fucking hates this drill. Same uncomfortable kneeling position for thirty minutes, more if anyone moves.
“Rifles up! Fire!”
We do that about a hundred more times. Nobody wants to be the one to earn more minutes for the squad. You don’t fidget, you don’t make a sound, you barely breathe until you’re released. My body shakes, muscles screaming at me to move. It fucks with my head, too much like my father’s tank. Just like I do when I’m in it, I breathe carefully, imagining I’m anywhere else.
“Did you really have to add honor and obey to our vows, dickhead?” I murmured in the dark. He’d taken me to his condo, stripped me, and placed me in his bed. I fell asleep for a little while, but woke up to find him still awake, head resting on my chest.
There was a seven-heartbeat pause—it’s Tate’s fault that I count in heartbeats now.
“Yes,” he said. And then he shoved his cock into me again.
“Toes tucked under, Ackerman. That’s another five minutes,” Officer Carter says. We all groan. “Another ten for all the groaning.”
After that, there are burpees, sprints, climbing, and crawling through mud in the freezing cold. When it’s finally time to hit the showers, most of us are ready for bed, but that’s not to be. We still have homework, formation, dinner, more homework, and then we can finally crash.
Shower steam wafts like a lazy cloud of bees as I shampoo my hair, lathering until I can hear the foam between my fingers. I try to put all the focus on everything, but Tate—the frequency of my Tate thoughts is unhealthy. I’m becoming the obsessed one.
Beckett slides into the stall beside me, eying me, turning on the shower, wetting his hair until he can slick it all the way back. He’s barely said two words to me since my impromptu wedding.
“How’s the missus?” he says, clearly meaning me and not Tate.
“Shut the fuck up,” I say. He punches my shoulder, lips hitching into a half smile. “Is that supposed to mean I’m forgiven?”
“I signed the certificate, didn’t I?”
“Yeah, like an asshole.”
“I was worried about you, man. That’s all. But Kane was right, you’re smart enough to make your own decisions.”
“Nah, you were right. Things are bad if I’m marrying a guy like Tate—he’s not a good decision, but he was my only decision.”
